


Inevitable

by dreamsoflovingness



Series: A Ballad of Fire [8]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azriel Needs a Hug (ACoTaR), Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, Lucien Vanserra-centric, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Oop can't believe I'm doing this, POV Lucien (ACoTaR), Poor Lucien Vanserra, Romance, Romantic Fluff, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsoflovingness/pseuds/dreamsoflovingness
Summary: The magic within him was settled whenever Azriel was near. He felt like he could breathe around the other male. More often than not he cursed the cauldron for not making him Azriel’s mate-------Lucien begins to explore his new power with Helion and spends more time with Azriel.
Relationships: Azriel/Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Helion & Lucien Vanserra, Morrigan & Lucien Vanserra, Rhysand & Lucien Vanserra
Series: A Ballad of Fire [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974892
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> I am BACK! No more chest pains and congestion. I'm just always sleepy now but that just comes with being in college I think.

Lucien lazily blinked and watched as Azriel stretched. A satisfied hum echoed in the room as the Illyrian’s joints popped. His wings stretched until they trembled slightly. All the while Lucien watched in awe from his place still in the sheets as Azriel’s muscles moved beneath tan skin. He must’ve noticed because when he turned there was a sly smirk on his face. A single scarred hand pushed Lucien’s red locks from his face before his lips were pressed to his forehead. Lucien smiled softly in response. 

He liked when Azriel kissed his forehead before he left in the morning to do whatever being a Spymaster entailed. Over the past three weeks he spent with Azriel at his apartment those touches became more frequent. If only Lucien could do the same. His hands still trembled whenever he ran then through Azriel’s hair and he always stopped himself short of kissing the other male. But Azriel never mocked him. He never made Lucien feel any less than for his hesitancy. Most times he’d cup both of Lucien’s hands in his scarred ones and place a soft kiss to his temple. 

The magic within him was settled whenever Azriel was near. He felt like he could breathe around the other male. More often than not her cursed the cauldron for not making him Azriel’s mate. Then again, Elain wasn’t at fault either. Their bond hummed in content form her side and Lucien was itching to know why, especially when Azriel mentioned the possibility of a certain female having caught the middle Archeron sister’s eye. 

“Are you really not going to tell me? I know she told you!” Lucien whined, “C’mon she’s my mate!”

“Have you told her about us?” Azriel countered. 

“Damn you,” Lucien hissed playfully, Azriel just shook his head and began to pull his leathers on. 

“Helion is coming back today isn’t he?” Azriel asked. Gods Lucien loved the way his lean muscles stretched as he pulled on his long sleeved undershirt. 

“Yeah,” Lucien mumbled, “learn more about spell breaking. He wants me to be the one to break my own spell.”

“That would be smart,” Azriel mumbled, “if you could control it once it’s released.”

“He says I’d have to do it either alone or with just him there,” Lucien said, “probably isolated from anywhere and anyone.”

“I wish I could be there,” Azriel mumbled, threading his fingers through Lucien’s hair. 

It was arranged by then. Helion would go to the Night once a week and Lucien would spend a few days a month in the Day Court whenever he began to work with his actual power. He also had to maintain a secure line of communication with Helion. That first day after what felt like insufferable weeks of heat, Helion had guided Lucien through cooling himself down with gentle words and praise he was sure he didn’t deserve. But it was soon followed by a two hour lecture of how Helion loved him and wanted to be there for him. 

“ _ You, Lucien, are not and never will be a burden,”  _ He had said as he cupped his cheeks, “ _ you are my son and that is a blessing I would never wish to undo.” _

“It’s probably best if you’re not,” Lucien mumbled, “what does Rhysand have you doing today?”

“Finding updates on Vassa’s kingdom. Feyre finally broke her spell. Rhys wants me to find out if it’s safe for her to return or if the other queens have something planned,” Azriel mumbled, “then I imagine he’ll be sending you once her place is secure to begin negotiations.”

“Negotiations?” Lucien questioned, “For what?”

“Trade, being allies, making sure she’ll side with us and no Hybern in any case,” Azriel mumbled. 

“She will,” Lucien mumbled, “it wasn’t hard to convince her to come back with me. I did not expect to run into Mr. Acheron though.”

“That was a shocking development. And seriously? No warning?” Azriel said as he sat on the be to lace his boots. 

“Couldn’t Hybern even have an inkling that we were at an advantage,” he said. 

A bright light outside followed by the scent that was distinctly Helion made Lucien groan and sit up. Azriel smiled as he stood and offered his hand.

“Looks like it’s time for you to wake up,” he said, “foxboy.”

“Shut it, shadowman,” Lucien teased back. 

Exhaustion was not a word Lucien used lightly. But even his teeth hurt by the time he was done learning spell breaking with Helion. It was much more taxing on the boy than he thought. Helion had eventually called it a day when Lucien felt blood drip down his lip from his nose. Well, not after being given a lecture on how overworking oneself is dangerous. Lucien nodded along but made to promise to actually follow any of what Helion was preaching. 

When he returned to Azriel’s apartment he dropped onto the sofa and whined when the winged male tried to move. Azriel chuckled, pressed a kiss to Lucien’s temple and declared that he was going to bed. 

“I’ll go in a minute,” Lucien mumbled before sleep overcame him. 

He woke up to shadows creeping over the edge of the sofa and under the blanket he was sure Azriel had draped over him at some point. They tugged on his wrist and Lucien’s eyebrows furrowed, he had no urge to do that. They creeped up his body and just as he was about to call for Azriel’s help, he was swallowed whole. 

Lucien was going to cry out for the Illyrian when a strangled scream made him tense. The shadows dropped him on the bed next to writhing Azriel. He didn’t hesitate to grab the larger male by the shoulders and shake him. Azriel didn’t even stir. Lucien cried out his name and nothing. 

“Az!” Lucien screamed, his fear bleeding into his name. At the sound, Azriel’s eyes flew open and Lucien didn’t have time to process as Azriel flipped so he was under him. Lucien saw the glint of Truth Teller as he held it up to no enemy. His tattooed chest was heaving as Lucien gently pressed the palm of his hand against the inked skin. 

“Hey,” Lucien breathed, cupping Azriel’s fist and prying the dagger out of his hand, “you’re okay, we’re okay.”

“L-Lucien?” He stammered, his wild eyes searching his features. 

“Yeah,” he said softly and tossed Truth Teller towards the ground. Azriel didn’t flinch at the sound of metal against tile. His fingers were busy tracing the red head’s features. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his nose against Lucien’s throat and taking a deep breath. 

“It’s alright,” Lucien mumbled, “what was it about?”

“The first war I...you were there,” he whispered, pressing his face even more against Lucien’s skin. “All I could see was you being tortured by Amarantha. And I-I couldn’t do anything to save you. I couldn’t save Rhys either…”

“Rhysand made his choice, Azriel,” Lucien whispered against raven hair, “he chose to lock you here to keep you safe. He did not want you to save him.”

“Before that,” Azriel whimpered, “Rhys was captured during the war by Amarantha. She didn’t even realize she had the heir of the Night Court in her grip. I was his father’s Spymaster too, I knew she had him. But...his father wouldn’t let me go free him. He told us it was his punishment for being weak enough to get caught, suffer whatever torture she unleashed on him.”

“That...Az…” Lucien couldn’t find the words, so he swallowed in uncertainty, “Azriel I...I don’t think he would’ve wanted you to save him then if it meant it could’ve gotten you killed.”

“I don’t care what he would’ve wanted,” Azriel said, “I should’ve saved him. What if I can’t save you one day.”

“Az,” Lucien said, tangling his finger in Azriel’s hair at the back of his neck, “I will never doubt your ability to save me.”

“I...I just can’t go through that again,” he whispered. 

“You won’t,” Lucien said, a steely resolve settling in his chest, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Azriel only whimpered in response. Lucien continued to run his fingers through raven hair until he felt Azriel’s breath even against his neck. 

Helion let out a satisfied hum as he finished the last knot on the Chiton he had been tying Lucien into. It was made of the finest linen from the day court. Lucien almost felt inadequate as he looked at himself in the mirror. One of his shoulders was left exposed as the material draped only over one. The edges of the Chiton were framed with gold silk and every time Lucien moved it seemed to shimmer like sun rays. He stilled when Helion’s finger delicately undid his braids and began to pull his hair back losey. 

“We don’t use braids often at the Day Court,” Helion explained, “although they do suit you.”

“My mother taught me,” Lucien responded. 

Then his father, it was still strange to think of him as such, dipped his fingers in a jar of gold paint and began to smear it across his cheeks. Down the bridge of his nose and over his temples. His thumb delicately brushed it over his lips. Helion stepped back, grabbing a diadem. 

It was nowhere near as extravagant as the one the High Lord of Day wore. It was tied into his hair and pressed against his forehead. He could feel the gold’s cool surface. Helion hummed again, taking off one of his pendants and rings, slipping them onto Lucien. What followed was a bracelet. 

“Now you look like the Heir of Day,” Helion said, turning him around. 

Lucien didn’t even recognize himself. He certainly looked like the Heir of Day. The gold only highlighted his features which made him look even more like Helion. He gulped, tracing his fingers over the diadem. It looked like the rays of a sun extending from a single, orange gem in the middle. He turned, facing Azriel who was standing to the side. A nervous smile spread across his cheeks. 

“Well?”

“You look ready to take over,” Azriel complimented, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards Lucien. His scarred hands cupped his cheeks even if Lucien’s eyes wouldn’t rise to meet his. “If you would look up at me.”

“I just...I don’t feel like..the Heir,” he whispered. 

“One day you will,” Helion assured him, collapsing a hand against his shoulder, “and when the day comes, you will make an incredible High Lord.”

“I don’t want it to come,” Lucien admitted, “I...we just found each other.”

“Little sun,” Helion said affectionately, “that day will never come so long as I can help it.”

“We should go show everyone,” Azriel said, “get their opinions.”

“I’ve seen Rhysand’s courtly attire,” Lucien scoffed, “minimal effort.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Helion teased, “minimalism seems to be his aesthetic.”

“Come one let us see!” Mor whined from behind the door.

“I’ll let them in before one of them starts to unscrew the hinges,” Azriel teased. 

He was received with gasps of awes and endless compliments. Feyre had admired the paint of his facing, begging Helion for the shade to which he said it was a Day Court secret. She had whined about it but it was all in good fun. 

“You look good,” Nesta said with a nod and gentle squeeze to his arm. 

“Maybe Helion’s right. I can’t let you upstage me at the next High Lords meeting,” Rhysand teased. Lucien tensed slightly. That was just another reminder that one day he would enter the High Lords meeting by Helion’s side and not Rhyand’s. 

“Oh please,” Lucien said with a roll of his eyes, “like you will ever update what you wear.”

“Just for that, I will. You’ll see,” Rhysand said.

“Little fox boy all grown up,” Cassian said, “eat your heart out Mor, he looks better in gold than you do.”

“Shut up,” Mor hissed at Cassian, then smiled at Lucien, “nice try dear.”

“Getting jealous, Mor?” Lucien teased. 

“Me?” She asked indignantly, “never!”

“You’re lucky Amren isn’t here to steal that crown off your head,” Cassian said. 

A small whimper made his head turn towards the door. 

Elain stood there, her eyes blown wide in horror. There was a distinct faraway look in her eyes that made Lucien curse. He weave through his friends until he was gripping his mate’s arm to keep her steady.

“Hey,” he said softly, letting her grip his hand, “c’mon Elain, come back to me.”

Her eyes met him and she backed away from him. She yanked her arm out of his grip as she screamed, her eyes still eons away from them.

***

_ Elain could not recognize the ruins around her. A whimper left her lips as she maneuvered through fallen ceilings and crumbled walls until they led her to a wide open room.  _

_ She slapped a hand over her mouth to smother the gasp at seeing the body of a High Fae drop to the ground after Lucien pulled his hand out of their chest. She watched in disgusted horror as he began to lap at the blood coating his hand and forearm. The Chiton she just saw him in wasn’t bloodstained, not like before, there wasn’t a single drop staining the pristine white.  _

_ It looked like she was in a palace throne room. It’s roof was gone, letting the sun bleed through the beams left behind. The walls were stained with what she could only imagine being soot and ash. If Lucien burned this place to the ground then claimed it as his own, then whose was it originally? It didn’t look like anything in the Night Court. It didn’t even look like it belonged in Prythian with its low arches and marbled walls. It looked...human. The portraits on the wall, or what was left of them, was clearly human art. It didn’t not possess the ethereal magic that Fae art did which gave it the notion that it was alive within it’s frame. Her eyes traced the cracks in the floor to the throne. The top half was broken off to reveal the rich gold inside. It’s outside suffered the same fate the floors did with various cracks and pieces missing. Yet it was still beautiful and Elain could only imagine what it looked like before Lucien stepped in there.  _

_ “Back for more, mate?” He asked, biting the word that should’ve held a certain softness. Only then did she see that his canine teeth were far sharper than she remembered.  _

_ “Lucien,” she breathed, stepping closer to where the elevated throne was. The rug thrown over the stairs was singed at the edges.  _

_ “I can’t seem to get rid of you,” he mumbled, the corner of his mouth rose in an undeniable smirk, “how many times do I have to tell you, seer, before you realize you should’ve never come for me.” _

_ “Go for you?” She asked incredulously. It made him tip his head back in a laugh. It was nothing like the soft breathy laugh she was used to. No, this echoed off the broken walls and when his eyes met hers they were wild. _

_ This was not her Lucien. Her Lucien’s eye was russet and loving. He always regarded her with a certain softness; he only showed her as his mate, as his other half, even if it was purely platonic.  _

_ This Lucien’s eyes were glowing with what seemed like living fires in his eyes. Their usual russet blended with the gold she had seen that day in Windhaven. And his mechanical eye was gone, but his scar remained. At least that was one thing that was the same.  _

_ “Seeing you here makes me almost regret killing you,” he said, leaning forward ever so slightly, “almost.”  _

_ “Lucien, what happened to you?” She whispered, clutching at the front of her sweater. He laughed again.  _

_ “I became…” a ragged breath escaped his lips as his eyes seemed to shine even more and he growled out, “ _ **_better_ ** _.” _

_ Shadows oozed out from behind the throne and Elain almost cried out in relief. Azriel was here, he was still alive, and he was here. Maybe she can’t save Lucien. Not like this, not anymore. But she knew he would never hurt or turn Azriel away. She could feel it through their bond, the surge of love everytime her mate looked at the Shadowsinger. Lucien leaned back as a figure stepped out from the gathering shadows.  _

_ Elain let out a horrified cry this time.  _

_ The male standing there was Azriel, but he seemed unrecognizable this way. His hair was grown out, shaggy waves brushing against his chin as he tilted his head in curiosity. Honey eyes were staring at her like they had never seen her before. As if he didn’t remember how he would sit with her in the garden or how she gave him a headache tonic for her first Winter Solstice. There was an animalistic quality to his movements that he did not possess before. He was like a predator, sizing her up to see if he’d be able to take her down. If not for the scars on his hands she would have mistaken him for another, feral, male.  _

_ “What did you do to him?!” She shrieked. _

_ “Azriel?” Lucien said, dragging a finger across his jaw, “I saved him when no one else would.” _

_ “You-You-” Elain stammered, watching as her mate and her best friend eyed her like hungry lions and she was a wounded gazelle.  _

_ “Az,” Lucien breathed, watching as the Illyrian bent over and brushed his lips against Lucien’s. It was Lucien who threaded his fingers and pulled Azriel into a bloody kiss. They seemed desperate for each other by the way Lucien was grasping at Azriel’s shoulders and how Azriel was roughly cradling his cheeks. When they pulled apart Lucien glanced back at Elain with a smirk.  _

_ “You’re still here?” His laugh was something she’d never get used to. One scarred hand wrapped around Lucien’s throat as Azriel continued to plant wet kisses along his jaw and eventually moved down to his neck, moving Lucien so his neck was laid bare for him. Another scarred hand began to rip the white fabric of the Chiton as Lucien let out soft sounds of pleasure.  _

_ “It’s time for you to go, seer,” Lucien said breathlessly, waving his hand.  _

“Elain!” Lucien’s voice made her slowly open her eyes. One worried russet eye and one mechanical eye were looking at her. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Hey,” he breathed, “it’s okay, whatever you saw it’s okay.”

“I saw you,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Oh Mother, I saw you and Azriel.”

“What did you see, Elain?” Nesta asked, her voice wavering. 

“Give her a minute,” Lucien bit back. 

“Why?” She whispered. 

“Why what?” He asked softly. 

“Why did you do that to Az?” She whimpered. Lucien tensed and Elain could feel his hands tremble against her arms. 

“Do what? Elain do what!” Lucien cried out, tears burning his eyes. 

“Turn him into a monster.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken a lot of time to plan this and well...what started as a way to fulfill my want for more Lucien in the books has spiraled off into this lmao! The whole time I was writing this all I could think of is that TikTok audio from Death Note the, "No wait I can't laugh yet I've gotta hold it in."
> 
> Listen...feral Azriel? A hope of mine. Mans deserves to bust some kneecaps in ACOSF. 
> 
> Enjoy! Please leave comments on what you think I really want to hear from you guys and your thoughts on Elain's vision!


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